"I don't believe you love me!" Heriot's kind heart was sincerely moved. "I adore you!" A faint smile at last appeared upon her face. "How can you possibly when you go on like this?" "Like what?" The smile died away and a quick frown took its place. "Heriot! Do you mean to say you think your behavior has looked like loving me?" "It's the heart that counts, Madge, not the behavior," he assured her. She sat up in her chair with an air of decision. "The behavior does count; so please don't talk as though you thought I was a fool. For your own sake, for the sake of your reputation and your family, you've got to come back with me to-morrow!" He seized her hand. "My dear Madge, that's just what I meant to do." He rose and bent over her with every symptom of affection. "And now you must really go to bed. You're looking tired; really you are. It quite distresses me." She still kept her seat. "You promise to come with me?" "I assure you I've got to come." "I must have your promise." He looked hurt. "Hang it, Madge, can't you trust me?" "No, I cannot. Give me your promise." His air of affection decidedly diminished, but he gave the pledge-- "I promise to go north to-morrow." "I can really trust you?" He began to frown. "Implicitly." She rose at last, and they went together towards the lift. "When do you breakfast?" she asked. He answered somewhat stiffly-- "There is no necessity of starting before two o'clock. Breakfast when you like." "We shall say ten o'clock, then." "That is fairly late, isn't it?" "You forget that I have had a tiring day, and perhaps you hardly realize whose conduct has tired me. Good-night." "Good-night," he replied in an unimpassioned voice. As the widow ascended she told herself that she had adopted entirely the right attitude. She might relent to-morrow, but till then it was well he should be deprived of the sunshine of her smiles. Next morning at the hour of 10:15 she stepped out of the lift to find Jean waiting in the hall. She greeted Mrs. Dunbar with a markedly composed air. "I hope you won't mind breakfasting alone?" she said. It was evident that the widow did mind. "Do you mean to say your father has actually breakfasted without me?" "Unfortunately, he had to." "Had to!" "He and Frank found they must catch the ten o'clock train." Mrs. Dunbar gasped. "He--has gone?" "Yes." "But he promised to go with me!" "I understood him to say," said Jean quietly, "that he had merely promised to go north." "Oh, indeed! Then he has run away?" "From whom?" asked Jean demurely. The widow bit her lip. "I consider his conduct simply disgraceful--" Jean interrupted her quickly-- "I had rather not discuss my father's conduct. Don't let me keep you from breakfast." Mrs. Dunbar remained standing in silence, a magnificent statue of displeasure. In a moment she inquired-- "And why are you waiting here?" "Father thought you might like my company on the journey."